


Under Your Sexy Body

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9903521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: Mycroft hasn't slept in at least 4 nights and isn't tired. Greg shows him a great way to wear yourself out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 14 hours for the [Come-at-Once](http://come-at-once.livejournal.com/) 24 hour pornfest on LJ. Come on over there and read the AMAZING fic.
> 
> This prompt, from [RedScudery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/redscudery/pseuds/redscudery), was "That's what happens when you can't sleep."

Greg stretched, reaching for Mycroft’s warmth in the large bed.

He tapped a cold, taut silk-cotton sheet instead of warm, soft Mycroft.

“Bloody idiot,” Greg mumbled into his pillow. “It’s 2am. Normal people sleep at night. But not Mr. Minor Position in the British Government.”

Greg pulled himself from the covers, sleep muddying his thoughts. He picked up the robe from the fainting couch at the foot of the bed and put it on as he made his way to the study. He knew from experience Mycroft would be sitting in his well-worn leather chair, facing the fireplace but not seeing the flames. Some nights there was a pot of tea; on the more complicated, burdensome nights, Mycroft would sip his way through a decanter of Talisker.

Being in love with Mycroft was often lonely (when he would disappear for days without explanation) and occasionally aggravating (when he would stare stone-faced at Greg’s demands for classified information), but Greg believed Mycroft Holmes was worth every bit of it because he knew the side that Mycroft fiercely protected from discovery. He was witty, relishing a good pun and a bad knock-knock joke equally. An excellent cook. He enjoyed a cut-throat round of crazy golf and walking in the snow.

And beneath that buttoned up three-piece shield was a sensual, seductive man.

Well worth dragging himself out of bed at midnight.

As Greg suspected, Mycroft sat in his chair, staring across the room with a crystal tumbler dangling from his fingers. Greg kissed the top of Mycroft’s head, and Mycroft started at the unexpected touch.

“Gregory. I didn’t hear you enter.” Mycroft patted Greg’s hand that rested on his shoulder.

“It’s after midnight. Whatever world problem you’re solving can wait a few hours. Come to bed.”

“I’m not tired.”

Greg huffed in frustration. He knew exactly how this argument went. “When was the last time you slept?”

“As I have told you before, it’s about the work. All the rest--”

“Yeah yeah, don’t give me that _it’s all transport_ bullshit.” Greg knelt in front of Mycroft and held his gaze. “When was the last time you slept?”

“What day is it? Thursday?” Mycroft frowned in thought, and Greg suspected that, whatever answer Mycroft gave, he’d have shaved at least 48 hours off the truth. “I slept on Monday when Anthea was at lunch.”

Greg removed the Waterford from Mycroft’s fingers and placed the glass on the table. “That’s not alright. C’mon. I’m taking you to bed.”

Greg suspected Mycroft intended to argue, but obviously thought better of it. He took Greg’s proffered hand to help him up, and Greg waited while Mycroft stoppered the whisky decanter, banked the fire and then followed Greg to their room.

The sheets were chilly when Greg crawled back into the bed. He pulled the heavy eider duvet to his nose and waited, struggling to stay awake. When Mycroft came out of the loo, he stood in the darkness and systematically removed his clothes. Greg felt like a voyeur but God, he loved watching Mycroft. Each piece of battle armour that he stripped off brought him one step closer back to Greg’s Mycroft.

The suit jacket first, draped over the fainting couch. The waistcoat, unbuttoned and folded in half, atop the jacket. Shoes tucked under the bed. Trousers, hem to hem and creases aligned.

Mycroft always left the shirt for last, pushing each tiny button through the embroidered hole until no more remained. Greg watched the shirt slip over the pale shoulders littered with freckles. Then the tight, defined muscles in his back and biceps, hidden from the world.

And when the shirt landed in the laundry hamper, Mycroft revealed his biggest secret. He despised wearing pants. Not cotton or silk, boxers or briefs. Hated the feeling and refused to bend to social constraint.

It was absolutely Greg’s favorite top secret discovery.

Mycroft slid into the large bed and lay on his back. Pulled the sheet and duvet mid chest and folded his arms over the top.

Greg had never seen anyone lie in a bed as rigidly as Mycroft was. “Good night.” He kissed Mycroft and then settled back under the cover. “Try to sleep.”

Greg cleared his mind, controlled his breathing, and waited for sleep.

Mycroft flopped onto his right side and bounced Greg awake.

_S’all good. Back to sleep. _Again, Greg slowed his breathing and felt himself falling under.__

__Mycroft flipped onto his left side, complete with a _hrumpf_ and a sigh._ _

__Greg cracked an eyelid open. “What are you doing?”_ _

__“You said I needed to come to bed,” Mycroft grumbled, his voice petulant. “I came to bed. I can’t sleep.”_ _

__“You’re worse than a toddler. Did you even close your eyes?” Greg pressed his palm to Mycroft’s chest, a loving gesture meant to soothe._ _

__“What the bloody hell?” Mycroft yelled, pulling Greg’s hand away. “Did you place that hand in the freezer?”_ _

__Greg grinned. “You don’t like it?” He pressed his cold toes against Mycroft’s calves, ready for the vicious kick._ _

__“You are evil, Detective Lestrade.”_ _

__“I’ve learned from the master.” Still grinning, Greg pulled the cover down and rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Come here.”_ _

__Mycroft looked wary, but did as Greg asked. His hands must have been a bit less icy, because Mycroft didn’t balk when Greg touched him._ _

__“I know a way for you to fall asleep.” Greg moved closer to Mycroft, kissed him, slow and deep, sliding his palm along Mycroft’s jaw. “I think you’ll like it.”_ _

__“It’s nice,” Mycroft kissed the crow’s foot at the corner of Greg’s eye. “But I really don’t feel like doing anything tonight.”_ _

__He heard Mycroft’s dismissal. “Oh love, you don’t have to do anything.” Greg smiled slowly and moved quickly, straddling Mycroft, his knees pressing against Mycroft’s hips. He brought his mouth to Mycroft’s ear and whispered, “I’ll do all the work.”_ _

__Greg felt Mycroft shiver beneath him, heard the sighed _Yes.__ _

__“Good,” he whispered, tracing the shell of Mycroft’s ear with his nose. “You’ll enjoy it. I promise. And if you _want_ to do something, please do.”_ _

__Mycroft shuddered, his breath caressed Greg’s neck. He nodded, his whiskers rasping against Greg’s cheek, just on the right side of pain._ _

__Greg shifted his arse back, brushing against Mycroft’s cock, earning another quiet moan. “Love you. So much.” Tonight he would take Mycroft apart and then rebuild him in love._ _

__Mycroft pulled him back, looked in Greg’s dark brown eyes as he spoke. “I love you, too.” He closed the sliver of space between their mouths, nipping Greg’s lip in between kisses._ _

__“Sit up.” Greg got out of bed to remove the duvet, folding to the foot of the bed. He took a moment to admire Mycroft, naked for him, allowing himself to be exposed and vulnerable for Greg. “My God, you are gorgeous.”_ _

__Mycroft shook his head, tried to toe the duvet back up, but Gregory wouldn’t allow it. “Yes, you are,” Greg said as he arranged bed pillows behind Mycroft. “I want you to watch. See that I’m telling you the truth.”_ _

__With Mycroft leaning against the pillows, Greg began again._ _

__He kissed his way down Mycroft’s neck, tasting his posh cologne, the special soap he could only buy in Belgium. With each brush of his lips and flick of his tongue, Greg felt Mycroft’s tension crumble._ _

__“I love your pecs,” Greg said, rubbing his palm over Mycroft’s chest. “I like that no one knows what’s under your waistcoat.”_ _

__When Mycroft tried to argue, Greg silenced him. He took Mycroft’s hard nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, ending with a flick. “I know you like that.” To prove his point, Greg cupped Mycroft’s hard cock; he tugged lightly as he sucked the nipple. Very soon, he would spend an entire evening just on nipple play, but not tonight._ _

__He removed his hand from Mycroft’s cock and shushed him when Mycroft mewled. “Soon.” He moved down Mycroft’s body, dragging his lips over the sensitive skin. Nipping his hipbone until he left a bruise. Brushing his nose up the crease where his hip met his thigh. Breathing in the scent that was love and Mycroft._ _

__Mycroft writhed under Greg, arching for more touch, more friction. He begged Greg to suck him, lick him. “Please…please.”_ _

__“Please what?” Greg asked, his mouth hovering over the tip of Mycroft’s cock. “This?” He looked up at Mycroft through his lashes and slid his tongue through the slick drops on the crown._ _

__The sheet moved under Greg’s knees; Mycroft had wrapped the sheets around his fists, yanking them instead of thrusting into Gregory’s mouth. “Lovely boy. Absolutely beautiful.” He sighed, his breath ghosting over Mycroft’s cock; it fluttered when Greg’s warm breath slid over the wetness._ _

__Greg didn’t want to hold back any longer. He wrapped his fist around the base of Mycroft’s cock, and then he wet his lips, closing them around the head. Greg swirled his tongue around the slick crown and listened to Mycroft babbling. He took in as much as he could; when the cock hit the back of this throat, Greg pulled off with a pop._ _

__“I want you to move for me,” Greg said, shocked by his ragged voice. Each of Mycroft’s gasps and rough moans seared him, tore through him to his need. He’d wanted tonight to be about Mycroft, but his cock, neglected in his tight briefs, ached for Mycroft’s touch._ _

__Mycroft released the sheets and held Greg’s head in place, grabbing fistsful of hair. He fucked Greg’s mouth, thrusting into the tight circle of Greg’s lips. Greg moaned around him, needing to breathe but not wanting to stop._ _

__Mycroft tensed, his body stuttering as he came in Greg’s mouth without warning. Greg swallowed greedily, sucking Mycroft through the orgasm until it was too much._ _

__Greg knelt back, pushed his briefs down low enough to take his cock out. He spit into his fist, wrapped it around his cock, and tugged once, twice before he came on Mycroft’s chest. Greg rolled off Mycroft and lay on the bed beside him, panting and exhausted. His mind was blank except for one thought: _I love Mycroft Holmes._ _ _

__Greg knew, if he didn’t move, he’d fall asleep and regret it in the morning. But next to him, Mycroft was relaxed for the first time in days. Greg could see his chest rise and fall, so rather than disturb him, he carefully rolled onto his side, foregoing the warm cloth to clean with._ _

__“Jesus,” Mycroft whispered. “That was incredible. That’s what happens when you come to bed?”_ _

__“No,” Greg mumbled, already dozing off. “That’s what happens when you can’t sleep.”._ _

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from this awesome Zara Larsson song, [I Would Like](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wi0IzqkfBwk)


End file.
